


Mandrake

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV), The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Fertility Issues, Gen, Magic, Past Character Death, Post Canon (Merlin), Random Encounters, Sorcerers, Sorcerers Meet, Witcher S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23116285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: Centuries after Arthur's death at Camlann wanderer Merlin meets sorceress Yennefer of Vengerberg, who's herself seeking a purpose after losing hers. As they size each other up, they speak truths and untruths.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	Mandrake

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometimes before the season finale of The Witcher and after Yennefer has met Geralt.
> 
> As I've only read the first two books of The Witcher series, I'm asking for no spoilers in the comments for further books. My characterisation is based on what's in S1 of the show and I've no idea what happens next. Thank you in advance!

Tall trees whose green fronds interlocked surrounded him. Moss painted trunks in broad viridian swipes that were soft to the touch. The terrain was moist from recent rains, its colour vivid, its consistency soft. Of a path there was no trace, for the forest was lush with new growth, brambles and grasses burgeoning even in the shadow of mighty oaks and beeches. 

With every step he made, Merlin's staff sunk into the earth. It gathered earthy residue as he went along, making his way across rising ground heavily shielded by perennial plants, marking his route in trails like spider webs.

As Merlin advanced, animals scuttled by, jaunty hares disappearing into the underbrush, deer roaming in the thick of the woods, small rodents burrowing into their lairs.

Working his hood lower on his head, Merlin trudged on, with the pace of a pilgrim. His bones were weary, his feet hurt and his soul had dried up, but on he went. It was easy to. On the march he didn't need to think and he didn't need to plan. He didn't need to come into contact with people and he didn't need to mourn. He could go on and on. Cross the wasteland of his own soul. The world was large in enough for a single man and his pain.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that at first he ignored the hanged men dangling from a tree in the clearing he'd come upon. Since his heart was severed from that of others and the sorrows of the world had stopped touching him long ago, he didn't react. If asked, he couldn't have told when exactly his capacity for empathy had shrivelled. So the sight, though gruesome, didn't affect him in the least.

If the woman collecting mandrake roots at the base of the selfsame oak the men were suspended from wasn't the focal point of an energy that stirred his magic, he wouldn't have stopped either. But stop he did, stepping on a twig hidden in the mulch underfoot.

Had Arthur been here with him he'd have reproved him for his lack of stealth skills, but Merlin was alone now and he could only reprimand himself under his breath.

At the sound the woman pivoted with impressive speed, splaying out her hands at the height of her hips. There was ferocious intent in her eyes, and a dazzling power oozed from her. 

Merlin had no doubt as to what she was. He would have been able to tell even if he hadn't felt the wild force inside her tug at nature's strings. He knew what she would do if he didn't say anything and yet he didn't speak. For he wondered...

A blast of unruly magic came at him like a fiery menace. Breathing, he waited for it to hit him in its full force. It slammed into him like a punch in the gut, like fire licking at his lungs. It wrested the breath from him and made him take a step back, as if he'd just stumbled into a gale. The small hairs on his arm burnt and his cloak also sizzled in places. When he lifted his head, his eyes tickled with the prick of his own magic. 

As his hood fell back, he planted his staff into the ground, and it both held him upright and lent him the power of the earth.

The woman – the sorceress, for that she must be – blinked, dropping her hands. She still held a defensive position, yet one that was coupled with a self-assurance that radiated from her like sunlight. In response she tilted her head, a confused frown marring a countenance that was otherwise transcendently perfect. “And what the fuck are you now?”

Merlin quirked an eyebrow at the sorceress' tone. “I'm a traveller and weary at that. I'd just like--” He signalled at the narrow path that snaked into the woods behind her. “--to be on my way.”

As if readying herself for a fight, the sorceress rolled her shoulders back. Her expression, however, was one of great unconcern. She looked as though a tiny kitten had just hissed at her, her eye roll dismissive, snide. Yet a spark glinted in her eyes. “I don't care what you do,” she said. “But you showed great power just now. Let's say my curiosity is tickled. I'll let you pass if you answer my questions.”

Merlin sighed. He was weary, both of his constant travelling and of the world. He didn't feel like entertaining people. The world he nowadays shunned. “I don't care to. So, if you'll let me.”

She clacked her tongue. “Not unless you tell me what kind of power you have.”

Merlin could probably plough his way through her, but he was as tired of bloodshed as he was of life. So he replied, “The same kind you have.”

Shaking her head, she crossed her arms. “Uh, uh. Your chaos is wild – it has unfurled.”

Though he mostly didn't care, Merlin was momentarily taken aback by her words. He had never heard the expression before. “I scarcely know what you're talking about and I have no intention to discuss it.” His body deflated wholesale. Why did he have to meet other human beings? Why did he have to explain himself and expend all his energy doing that when he'd just rather be on his way? “So...”

The sorceress closed her eyes and her fingertips glowed like a wildfire.

This was something Merlin knew and he wanted to avoid it. Confrontation didn't come easy to him these days. Why should he battle great powers? Why should he take a stand? He supposed he had time to waste, inordinate amounts. “All right, what do you want?”

She smirked. “With your powers, what can you do?”

Merlin found a boulder and sat himself on it, leaning his staff against a tree trunk. The hanged men he chose not to think about, the same way his interlocutor showed her indifference to them. “Why don't we introduce ourselves first?”

She snorted. “Yennefer of Vengerberg.” She tapped her fingers on her arm, an impatient tattoo. “Now let's cut to the chase.”

Merlin nearly laughed in response. The sound that came out of his mouth was distorted, however. It was sad and pained, holding no mirth in it. “I'll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Yennefer seemed reluctant to acquiesce; her frown had dug deep in her forehead. “You can ask only one question and if I don't like it I won't reply.”

Nodding his acquiescence to Yennefer's terms, Merlin asked, “What were you doing with the mandrake?”

“Found these handy fuckers someone had executed. I thought I'd make a potion.” She shrugged. “There are plenty of fools ready to pay gold for one.”

That made sense and also told Merlin something about the woman he was talking to. “Ah, and that is what you're after then.”

Yennefer held up a hand. “You had your chance.” She glared when Merlin made to open his mouth. “Now it's my turn. Your magic is strange. I can feel it.”

Merlin had no idea whether his magic was indeed out of the ordinary, as this woman maintained. He knew he was powerful. Though their numbers were dwindling, most druids still bent their knees when they saw him. As to his own self-assessment, Merlin believed in what his father had told him. The nature of his gifts was such as Balinor had described. But though he never doubted him, an evaluation of his skills as a sorcerer was of no importance to him. “My magic just is.”

A spark of interest lit up Yennefer's eyes. It was a calculating sort of interest, yet real hope also shone in there. 

The hem of her dark travelling dress swishing in dirt and mulch, she squatted across from him and put her palm on the ground, summoning a flame that burned preternaturally bright. “But what can it do?”

“Lots and lots.” He wasn't lying, but he wasn't specifying either. He had promised to answer questions, not to wholly open up to a stranger. There had been a time when, despite lying to protect himself, he had been communicative and friendly to all. But since his world had crumbled, he had been different. A shell inside a shell. A phantom of a phantom. “Why does that interest you?”

Yennefer looked daggers at him. “Why should it not? This conversation might be useful to the both of us.”

Merlin didn't see how. “I just want to go do what I have to do.”

“You don't look as someone who's in a hurry to be somewhere,” Yennefer said, submitting him to a glance that almost stripped him naked.

It was true too. Though he hadn't bothered to wear his old man facade, he had let his beard and hair run wild. He had no memory of when he last trimmed either, nor was he concerned with it. Neither did he plan to actually meet anyone or be somewhere specific. “Let's say I seek solitude.”

Yennefer laughed and her laughter turned as sour as Merlin's had before. “Don't tell me this is about love.” Her mouth turned down as though she had just tasted the sourest of lemons. “Believe me, love doesn't get you far, not even when you momentarily believe in it.”

Merlin had been around long enough to guess she had as many problems confronting her feelings as he had forgetting his. “You sound cynical.”

“I sound wise.” She stuck her chin out and she looked like a stubborn child for a moment. “A realist. This fucking world's got nothing for anyone, least of all love.”

Tears came unbidden to his eyes. “You have no idea what you're talking about.” Memories of Arthur flooded him one after the other. These were recollections of days long gone by, moments they'd shared, significant instants that had torn Merlin's heart open because of the way he and Arthur had connected. A nudge of the shoulder, elbows brushing together, a smile smiled at the end of a long day. “I wouldn't be so sure.”

“Oh please.” She made a face, her eyebrows going up in mutiny. “I know a thing or two about love and one thing's for sure: you can't trust it one bit. Believe me, I have all the long nauseating experience.”

Though he didn't want to, Merlin met her gaze in full. “I have lived longer than I ever wished to.” But even as he'd said that, he realised she wasn't as unfazed as she liked to sound. She didn't need him to chide her. That was why he was kinder than he had originally meant to be when he added, “I have experienced as much as you, but that will never make me forget the past.”

“Ugh,” Yennefer scrunched up her nose, managing to still look beautiful as she did. “I wouldn't put too much stock in memories. Or in feelings. You can meet a really good guy, or at least one you think of as one – you know the spiel, handsome, heroic, strangely naïve, and you think they can't hurt you and then...”

“Life hurt me,” Merlin said, trying to combat Yennefer's cynicism. “And never the person I loved.”

“So you're that lucky then.” Yennefer sounded put upon. “The truth is there's nothing, for any of us.”

“Perhaps there is nothing.” There was certainly nothing for Merlin now. With love all of his hope had died, all of his belief in a better world, his compunction to make a difference. He never thought of the future these days. He had no interest in others. And his heart was closed off. But this woman seemed to still have a chance. She wasn't in the same boat as him. Maybe she could have a different destiny. Maybe her path would be one that led to fulfilment. “But you won't know unless you try. You won't get what you want unless you fight for it.”

“I don't want to fight.” She looked away into the distance. “I've been a sorceress for hire long enough. And all to do what? Serve a bunch of corrupt nincompoops who have sex and dissipation on their brain? I have no moral high ground, but I've met far worse people than myself and that's saying something.”

Merlin understood her point of view, but he had a feeling this woman was selling herself short. She told tall tales of her heartlessness, but something about her bitterness and inward look made Merlin believe she was lying about herself, if not consciously so. Perhaps she had stopped caring. But perhaps she hadn't and her behaviour was mere bluff. Even Arthur had known fear and self doubt. And he had tried not to show it, his reluctance to lower his guard mixed with notions of how to be a good leader. But he had felt it. Maybe she was like him. “I think there's a middle way between utter negativity and cautious hope, but it's up to you to make up your mind about either.”

“Nothing has been left up to me,” Yennefer said, eyes sparking with genuine rage. “I can do so much, but when it comes down to it I can really do nothing. So tell me, mage, what's the point?”

Merlin searched the sky for answers. He found none in the serene blue he saw up above. Nature was beautiful and fed his magic, but sometimes it appeared so remote. “These last few centuries,” he said, searching for a truth of his own, “I've lost faith, much like you. So perhaps I'm the worst person there is to give advice. But I see a will in you that I have lost. You can fight for a better world.”

“I don't want a better world,” Yennefer said. “I want what I've lost, what I gave away with no knowledge of the consequences. Give me that and I can call it quits with fucking destiny.”

“Ah, I see.” Merlin made sure to study Yennefer close. “And what is it that you want?”

She gathered a fistful of earth and then opened her hand and blew away at the soil, which was swept away by a breeze. “I want a child of my own. I want to be someone's mother.” She grew pensive, before regaining her grit and telling him, “And I think you have boundless power, mage.”

Laughter startled out of Merlin. “You think I can create life, to that extent?”

“I think you're unlike anyone I've met before.” There was longing in her voice and in her eyes. “I think you can satisfy my wish.”

Sadly, Merlin shook his head. “If I'd been able to give life like that the man I revered above all others would be alive now.” Since that fateful day centuries ago, Merlin had never spoken of Arthur to anyone. After his king's passing he'd closed himself off, leaving Camelot behind, abandoning his surviving friends and becoming the wanderer he was now. He had no idea why he was revealing facts previously held close to his chest to this woman, but he felt he must. “I have myself lived more than any man has a right to and can do nothing to change that fact about myself.” He read understanding in Yennefer's eyes. “But I can't extend that power to anyone else. And I can't do what you're asking me.” The strange thing was that he wished he could have. As dead inside as he was, he felt let down by his own powers because they couldn't do what Yennefer required of them. “And for that I'm sorry.”

An unholy light lit up Yennefer's countenance. For a moment she looked as though she wanted to put Merlin's statement to the test, force his hand with her enchantments. Challenge him for her benefit. But then her shoulders went down and her face relaxed. “Whatever, I should've known. Men are no use, not even sorcerers.”

Dusting herself off, she picked herself up. With a hand gesture she killed the fire she had summoned, which had been warming them. 

Merlin observed her. She wasn't looking at him; her shoulders were down, her hair covered her face in dark strands like mourning drapes. She was rigid, shielding herself from him – or his words. 

He supposed he had just dashed another hope, proven himself, once again, useless. So he cupped his hands and sank deep into those strings of power that came from nature and also had roots in him. A warmth encompassed him, magic sang in his veins, making him see colours that rivalled those of the most beautiful rainbow. The earth gave to him what he asked of her. And when he opened his hands a blue butterfly flew out, touching Yennefer's nose before landing on her palm.

Her eyes rounded for the span of a second and her features sweetened. Her voice wasn't as steady and dismissive when she told him, “Thanks, I guess.”

Pulling his hood up and picking up his staff, Merlin nodded and proceeded on his way. He had almost disappeared into a circle of trees, when she called after him. “You're not spent, mage. Maybe one day you'll have your heart's wish – if destiny wills it.”

Though he had listened and the words had been a balm to his soul – cradled the seeds of hope –, he didn't reply. He just tramped on, back on his never-ending pilgrimage of the world.

The End


End file.
